


Sick Days Are For Dudes

by SolveForHoltzmann



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolveForHoltzmann/pseuds/SolveForHoltzmann
Summary: Holtzmann gets the flu, Patty is the bomb and keeps an eye on her. Abby and Erin are present, but minimally so. Mostly this is about Patty and Holtz.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There could be additional chapters, if the writing bug hits. For now, there's just the one. First time ever writing any sort of fanfic, giving it a try.

Patty looked up from her book after having been interrupted for the third time in just a few minutes by Holtzmann, who was doubled over and dry heaving at her workstation. It was Patty’s personal policy not to interfere when someone was sick, but when she finally looked over, Holtzmann had her head buried in the waste bin, and the blowtorch, still lit, rested at a precarious angle on the table.

Patty had had enough. Holtzmann was going to burn the place down to spite the flu. Or whatever it was. She snapped her book closed and walked over to Holtzmann’s space, turning off the blowtorch while Holtzmann continued to dry heave.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you take a break? No upgrade to the sidearms is going to be helpful if the lab is torched.”

“I’m almost done, I just need to finish welding this piece to adjust the circumference of the discharge—” Holtzmann trailed off, looking up, she saw Patty standing over her with a no-nonsense expression, arms folded across her chest.

“You wanna try that again?”

Holtzmann wisely decided it was a good idea to take a break. “Alllriiiiight,” she conceeded, “I’m not feeling that great right now anyway.” Standing up, she pushed her yellow-lensed safety goggles up onto her head. Right away, Patty noticed for the first time that Holtzmann looked sweaty and pale (well, more pale than usual—did Holtzmann ever go outside?), and she started to get concerned. Even her eyes, usually bright, were dull, glassy, and red-rimmed. Several blonde curls were stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“You don’t look so good, Holtzy.” She raised the back of her hand to touch Holtzmann’s forehead, and then her cheek, which confirmed Patty’s suspicion. “You’re burning up. Come on, you’re taking a sick day.”

“Sick days are for dudes.” Even her quips didn’t have the same spunk behind them as they normally did.

“At least I know you’re not dying.” Patty tugged Holtzmann by the elbow down the staircase to the first floor, where Abby and Erin were engrossed in a lively discussion about how difficult it really is to get a cat into a bag. Their chatter halted when they noticed Patty dragging Holtzmann to the couch, and gently pushing her down. She also grabbed the nearest trash bin and set it between Holtzmann’s feet.

“What’s wrong with her?” Abby asked Patty. Sometimes it was easier to bypass Holtzmann if you needed a quick answer or didn’t want to wade through pick-up lines and sass.

“She almost set the lab on fire because she was too busy puking to turn off the blowtorch,” Patty started in, sounding none too pleased. “And I think she has a fever. She’s hot.”

“I knew you were into me,” Holtzmann added from the couch, winking at Patty, who rolled her eyes. Erin disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a small plastic box, which she flipped open and rummaged through until she found a thermometer.

“Here, let’s check.” She brought it over to Holtzmann on the couch, and waited for her to put it under her tongue. Surprisingly, Holtzmann didn’t argue, and stuck the thermometer in her mouth with a flourish, like she was holding a cigarette.

“We don’t need a thermometer to tell us I’m the hottest—”

“Stop talking while it’s trying to get a reading, or we’ll have to take it again,” Patty chided, cutting her off and taking a seat at the table where she could keep an eye on things. Holtzmann shut her mouth, and pulled her goggles back down over her eyes like a shield— a sure sign that she was feeling unsettled. She rubbed her arms, suddenly aware of the chills running over her skin. A minute passed in silence, then the thermometer beeped. Erin pulled it gently out of Holtzmann’s mouth and looked at the display.

“1-0-3, even," she announced. Holtzmann’s shoulders slumped. The other three women converged at the table, trying to come up with a plan.  
“I’ll go get some medicine for her fever and her stomach,” Erin offered. “We don’t really have anything here that will help.”

“And some Lysol, please. Hopefully we can keep anyone else from catching whatever she has,” Abby added.

“I’ll sit with her. All I’m working on today is some reading anyway, I can do that down here. Someone should keep an eye on her, just in case, and I’ve already had my flu shot. Abby, can you go grab some pajamas from her room? And some socks?” Patty looked pointedly at Holtzmann’s bare feet inside her two-toned bowling shoes, and Abby disappeared up the stairs on the hunt for pajamas. Erin grabbed her purse and disappeared out the door, leaving Holtzmann and Patty by themselves.

“It’s no big deal, Patty. You don’t have to babysit. I can just go upstairs and stay outta the way.”

“Baby, we’re not even gonna pretend that you’ll go upstairs and just relax. There’s too much temptation with your lab right there. At least down here, someone is always close by if you need something.” As if on cue, Holtzmann lunged for the waste bin and proceeded to be thoroughly sick. Patty sighed and rose from her chair, coming to Holtzmann’s side while she wretched. She rubbed Holtzmann’s back gently until she was finished vomiting, and took the waste bin away to clean without a word. When she returned with the clean bin, Holtzmann smiled sheepishly. At the same time, Abby came back down the stairs with an oversized t-shirt and Holtzmann’s favorite pair of basketball shorts. And a pair of matching socks. Holtzmann did notice a little sadly that the shirt wasn’t long-sleeved. Despite what the thermometer said, she was freezing.

“Here Holtzy, go ahead and get changed. Then get comfy on the couch. Erin should be back before too long,” Abby said, handing Holtzmann the pile of clothes. She stood up shakily, and disappeared into the bathroom for several long minutes. When she returned, she was in her pajamas, socks included, still wearing her safety goggles. Sinking back into the couch, Holtzmann reached for the blanket draped over the back of it and started to pull it around herself before Patty stopped her.

“No, not yet. Your fever’s gotta come down first, otherwise we’re just making it worse.” She moved the blanket out of Holtzmann’s immediate reach. Holtzmann made a noise that sounded like a whimper. “Let’s take those off so you can lay down.” Patty gestured to the safety goggles, which Holtzmann reluctantly pulled off and handed over.

About fifteen minutes later, Erin returned from the drugstore with more supplies than Patty expected. She started emptying the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, and Patty was impressed with Erin’s thoughtfulness. In addition to regular Tylenol, there was Tylenol PM (which, let’s be honest, would be a blessing for them all), Pepto-Bismol liquid, Pedialyte juice boxes and freeze pops (they all knew Holtzmann loved juice boxes and popsicles), saltines, a tube of Pringles (which were kept out of Holtzmann’s sight for the time being), and enough Emergen-C, Lysol, and hand sanitizer for the rest of them. “Damn, Erin. You thought of everything,” Patty praised. Erin beamed, putting the popsicles in the freezer. She passed a notepad and pen to Patty, in which she had already started to keep track of things. The first line read:

_10:30am- Temp 103.0, vomiting_

“Just add to it as you go, so we know when medicine was last given and such. It will help us make sure she doesn’t go too long without something, or have medications doubled up.” Patty nodded, already adding to the 10:30am entry.

_Regular Tylenol x 2, Pepto shot, juicebox_

  
“You’ve got her from here? Abby and I need to finish that article, the deadline is tomorrow and we’ve still got a ways to go.”

“Yeah, we’re cool. I’ll yell if we need something,” Patty said, and Erin disappeared up the stairs after Abby. Patty poured a dose of bright pink Pepto-Bismol into the little plastic cup, and popped a straw into one of the juice boxes. She fished two tablets of regular Tylenol out of the bottle, grabbed her book, and carried it all over to Holtzmann on the couch. No longer upright, Holtzmann was laying on her side, facing the back of the couch, her forearm over her eyes and legs tucked up to her chest. Patty could see her shivering, and suddenly felt like a monster for taking the blanket away. “Hey baby, sit up for a minute. Erin brought you medicine.” Holtzmann groaned, and Patty helped pull her back to a sitting position. She put the plastic cup of Pepto-Bismol in Holtzmann’s hand, and waited for her to down it before handing her the Tylenol and juice box chaser. Holtzmann obediently swallowed it all with a grimace, and when she didn’t even ask what she had been given, Patty knew for certain she really felt like garbage. Retrieving the blanket, Patty sat down on the couch and opened her arm to Holtzmann, an invitation for Holtzmann to snuggle up, which she did without hesitation. With Holtzmann curled up against her side, head resting on Patty’s chest, she could feel both the heat radiating off her and her intense shivering. Against her better judgement, Patty tucked the blanket around Holtzmann and made a plan to recheck her temperature again in an hour or so, just to be safe. “It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry you don’t feel good. I got you,” Patty spoke softly, stroking Holtzmann’s blonde curls.

Over the next few hours, Patty discovered just how clingy Holtzmann was when she didn't feel well. It wasn't enough to just be near her—she needed to be in your lap, in your face, the center of your attention. She was like a cat in that sense; the more you didn't want her on you with her germs, the closer she had to be. Thankfully, Patty didn’t have any pressing work to get done other than her reading, which she did out loud to keep Holtzmann quiet. Holtzmann would intermittently doze off curled up against Patty, listening to her read, until Patty had to shift because either her arm or leg or both had fallen asleep. Then Holtzmann would wake up, whiny, and Patty would gently coax her into drinking some more Pedialyte, or help her get comfortable again.

“But Patty, I’m _bored_ ,” she pouted, the empty juice box hanging out of her mouth by the straw, flipping around as she spoke, squirming in Patty’s lap. Patty just rolled her eyes. Obviously Holtzmann was feeling a little better, but Patty wasn’t convinced that was a direct result of anything but the Tylenol. When that wore off, Holtzmann would probably revert back to a shivering mess.

“You want a coloring book or something?”

Holtzmann wrinkled her nose.

“Didn’t think so.” She pressed the back of her hand lightly to Holtzmann’s forehead, displeased to still find it warm. “Let’s check your temp again, since your whole body was on fire a few hours ago.” Patty disentangled herself from Holtzmann, and retrieved the thermometer. Surprisingly, Holtzmann stuck it in her mouth without complaint. When it beeped, they both looked at the display. “Time for some more Tylenol, huh? How about an otter pop, too? Erin brought back a whole thing of grape-flavored ones. Your favorite.”

“Yes!” Holtzmann started to climb over the back of the couch, but Patty pointed a finger at her and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Park it. You’re resting today. I’ll get your popsicle.” Patty headed for the kitchen, and fished out the bottle of Tylenol PM. No, it wasn’t technically time for bed, but if Holtzmann didn’t crash and let Patty get some peace, things were going to get rough, fast. So she dumped two tablets into her hand, grabbed a grape popsicle and another juice box, and returned to the couch. She took the empty juice box away, and handed Holtzmann the new one, along with the Tylenol PM without saying anything. No need for Holtzmann to know it was the PM variety. She downed the pills and the juice, then eyed the grape otter pop, which Patty happily gave her. “Ok, come here and get settled,” Patty lifted her arm, and Holtzmann climbed all the way into Patty’s lap with a conspiratorial grin. Patty sighed, giving up on the book for the moment, and wrapped the blanket and her arms around Holtzmann. She rocked Holtzmann against her chest while Holtzmann noisily slurped at her popsicle. It didn’t take long for them both to pass out.

“Man, I hope Patty doesn’t catch whatever Holtz has,” Abby whispered, standing on the bottom step of the staircase with Erin. Holtzmann was out, evidenced by the drooling on Patty’s shirt, and Abby knew how well that would go over once Patty woke up.  
“Let’s leave them be,” Erin giggled. She flipped off the lights, and they retreated up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the first chapter. Poor Holtz. She is lucky to have the other ladies, especially Patty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this. It's basically word-vomit, at this point. Apologies.

Patty woke up when the afternoon sun, streaming in from the window across the room, hit her full in the face. She moved to stretch, but found herself pinned in place by a sleeping Holtzmann. She could still feel the heat radiating off her small body. Fortunately, Abby appeared on the staircase right then, and Patty motioned her over.

“She’s still sleeping? That’s got to be a record.”

“I gave her the Tylenol PM, and knocked her tiny ass out. Here, help me move her.” Between the two of them, they maneuvered Holtzmann off Patty’s lap and onto the couch without waking her up.  “Oh, man. I feel like I got slimed,” Patty groaned as she stood up, pulling at the drool spot on the chest of her shirt. “Didn’t know I needed to suit up to babysit Holtz.” She looked back down at Holtzmann, and noticed that she was covered in sweat again, her clothes sticking to her skin. Abby noticed at the same time.

“I’m worried the Tylenol isn’t helping her fever.” Abby found the thermometer and placed it under Holtzmann’s arm, _tsk_ ing when it came back with a reading of 103.9. “I think we need to get her cooled down some, 103.9 is dangerously high. And her actual temperature is probably even higher than that, since I only checked it under her arm.”

“A cool bath?” Patty suggested. Abby nodded in agreement.

“I’ll get one going. Can you wake her up?” Abby was already heading for the bathroom, leaving Patty to her task. Patty bent over Holtzmann, and shook her shoulder gently.

“Holtzy? Wake up. Your fever is worse.” She continued to shake her, until Holtzmann roused with a whimper, lazily batting Patty away. Patty, who was unfazed, kept at it until Holtzmann partially opened her eyes.

“I don’t feel so good.” She struggled to push herself into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes.

“I know, baby. We’re gonna get you into the bath. Can’t let the fever melt that big beautiful brain of yours.” Patty helped her stand up, noting that Holtzmann still hadn’t opened her eyes all the way. She wrapped her arm around Holtzmann’s waist and walked her to the bathroom. Holtzmann seemed a little wobbly on her feet, but didn’t appear to be in danger of falling. And now that she was up and walking, she was becoming more alert. Abby had finished filling the bathtub with room-temperature water, and was turning off the tap when Patty and Holtzmann entered. She set a fluffy blue towel on the back of the toilet, and left the bathroom, brushing Holtzmann’s shoulder sympathetically on the way out. 

“Ok, I’m gonna give you a minute to get undressed and into the tub, alright?”   Patty asked. Holtzmann’s only response was a whine. Patty left, closed the bathroom door and pressed her ear against it, listening for any sounds of trouble. She didn’t hear anything at all. She was listening so intently that when Abby touched her shoulder, she jumped.

“Hey, sorry. Is she in?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. She’s supposed to be getting undressed. I’ll check on her in another minute or two.”

“Let’s hope this helps. Erin thinks she should see a doctor if we can’t get her fever back down.” 

“Well we’d need enough of the _PM_ in Tylenol PM for a horse to get her to a doctor.”

“Cross your fingers—” Abby was cut off by the sound of vomiting from inside the bathroom.

“It’s going to be a long night. Can you go find her another set of pajamas?” Patty knocked gently on the door as Abby trotted back up the stairs. “Holtzy? I’m coming back in, ok?” She didn’t wait any longer for an answer, and slowly opened the door. _Poor Holtzy_ , she thought, finding Holtzmann bent over the toilet, still dressed and dry heaving. There couldn’t have been much of anything in her stomach to actually throw up, but Patty was regretting letting her have that grape freezer pop. She sat down on the edge of the tub and waited for Holtzmann to be finished. 

“I think I’d rather be dead,” Holtzmann whined, moving to sit on the ground beside Patty’s leg, with her back against the tub. She put her head in her hands and groaned miserably. 

“I know. You gotta get in the bath, though. Your fever is back up.” She decided not to mention the contingency plan of taking Holtzmann to a doctor if the bath didn’t bring her fever down. No sense in getting Holtzmann worked up before they had to. “Can you get undressed and get in on your own?”

Holtzmann nodded, but didn’t look up.

“Abby’s getting you some new pajamas. Yours are soaked through with sweat.” Patty stood up, gently pulling Holtzmann to her feet. “Don’t wait too long. I’ll be just outside if you need anything. You need to sit in there for at least twenty minutes.” Holtzmann gave Patty the saddest puppy eyes but didn’t argue, and Patty left the bathroom. She retrieved the new pajamas from Abby, and got a new round of medication ready. After she made her entry on the spiral notepad, she sat down and waited, counting the minutes. The day had passed by faster than she expected, since both she and Holtzmann were able to nap for most of the afternoon. But the evening wasn’t shaping up to pass by so easily, with Holtzmann’s nausea and fever returning. Patty made herself wait an extra five minutes before she knocked on the bathroom door again. “Can I come back in?” Holtzmann grunted in response, which Patty interpreted as a “yes,” so she slipped back inside. Holtzmann was still in the tub, sitting up with her knees pulled to her chest, head resting on her knees and facing away from the bathroom door. Patty sat down on the edge of the bath tub, politely averting her eyes as Holtzmann made a feeble attempt to cover herself up— very unlike Holtzmann, she noted. “You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before, don’t even worry about it. Let’s check your temp again.” Patty handed her the thermometer, which she stuck under her tongue and waited quietly for the beep. Also very unHoltzmann-like. 

“1-0-2 point 9,” she said quietly, handing the thermometer back while still facing away. 

“Better, but still too high. Here’s some more Tylenol and Pepto. Take those, I’ll help you get your hair wet, then you can get out and get dried off.” Patty set the medication in Holtzmann’s hand. Holtzmann swallowed the pills dry, and downed the Pepto-Bismol like a shot of tequila, complete with a grimace at the end. Patty began to carefully remove the bobby pins keeping Holtzmann’s hair in place. With each pin she pulled out, she was surprised to see just how long Holtzmann’s hair really was, and wondered how long it took for Holtzmann to do her hair each morning. Realistically, it was _Holtzmann_ , so it probably took less than thirty seconds. Once Patty had all the pins out, she filled a plastic cup with water to pour over Holtzmann’s hair. “Look up,” she instructed gently, putting her hand on Holtzmann’s forehead like a visor to keep water from getting in her eyes. After several cups, Holtzmann’s hair was thoroughly wet and she was shivering again. Patty set the towel beside her, along with the new pajamas, and excused herself from the bathroom so Holtzmann could get out of the tub and get dressed. 

A few minutes later, Holtzmann emerged from the bathroom in new pajamas, the towel draped around her shoulders, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. At the same time, Patty came out of the kitchen with a new Pedialyte juice box. It had started to get dark outside, with the winter sun setting earlier and earlier. There was slushy snow on the ground, melting from the moderate temperatures during the day, but Patty knew it would refreeze tonight. The temperature inside the firehouse was steadily dropping, and Patty was silently grateful when she saw the pajamas Abby had picked out. For one, they matched (after a moment, Patty realized the pajamas probably belonged to Erin-- they were a bit long for Holtzmann). And two, the flannel pants and top would keep Holtzmann from getting chilled without exacerbating her fever. Even the socks were just right— the fluffy, soft kind. It would be a balancing act to keep Holtzmann warm enough not to shiver, but not too warm.

“Feelin’ any better?” Holtzmann just shrugged. Even when she was at the top of her game, Holtzmann was not very effusive with words. Her language was predominantly physical, which the other three ladies had come to understand. When Holtzmann was excited, she was very animated with her hands and facial expressions. When she was frustrated, she was prone to slamming things against her desk. If she was thinking hard about something, usually her hands were busy with some small task, like stripping wire. Patty wasn’t sure what to do with this pathetic version of Holtzmann, who just looked at her forlornly, like a dog that had come inside from the rain. So she offered to do what her mother used to do for her when she wasn’t feeling well. “Sit down, I’ll brush your hair out.” Patty retrieved a comb from the bathroom as Holtzmann slinked over to the couch. When they were both situated, Patty began to run the comb through Holtzmann’s blonde curls, careful not to snag. She worked methodically, doing small sections at a time. Holtzmann melted under the touch, sighing softly with her eyes half closed.  It took fifteen minutes to work all the way through her hair, and Patty finished by braiding it to keep it out of Holtzmann’s face. That was one thing she knew for certain about Holtzmann— she hated the feel of hair on her neck, and always wore her hair pulled up. Patty rested her hand lightly on Holtzmann’s shoulder when she was finished, and was equally horrified and rewarded when Holtzmann turned toward Patty's hand on her shoulder, and licked it. “Holtzy! What in the sweet hell is wrong with you?” She pulled her hand back like she had just set it on a hot surface.

“I’m sick, Patty,” she said, looking over her shoulder with a falsely apologetic expression. 

“Yeah, I already knew that.” She shook her head. Just like a dog, it was truly hard to be mad at Holtzmann for her quirks. “Come on, then. Get comfortable. You’re still confined to the couch.” Holtzmann resumed her position curled up against Patty, her legs draped across Patty’s lap. Sitting like that didn’t look comfortable to Patty, but she would go with whatever made Holtzmann feel better. 

“I could get used to this.”

Patty grabbed her book and the juice box, handing the juice box to Holtzmann without acknowledging her comment. Ignore bad behavior, right? “Can you drink some of that or do you still feel like throwing up?”

“I’ll drink it.” Holtzmann took a long pull on the straw.

“Do not chug it. Small sips. I don’t want to clean up any more vomit today.” Patty tapped Holtzmann on the nose.

Miraculously, Holtzmann did not chug the rest of the juice box. Patty thought for a moment they must be in an alternate universe. Holtzmann always did the exact opposite of what she should be doing, in some perverse effort to prove the laws of this universe didn’t apply to her. Unfortunately for the rest of them, she was usually right. She sipped it quietly for several minutes, making a show of slurping at the very end, until Patty arched an eyebrow at her.  

“How’s our Holtzy?” Erin asked cautiously from the stairs. She was more emboldened once she saw Holtzmann sitting up, looking a bit brighter than she had a few hours ago, chewing on the straw of a juice box. “Ready to get back to work?” she joked, but immediately regretted the words when Holtzmann’s eyes lit up. It hadn’t even been a whole day of keeping Holtzmann out of the lab since she had gotten ill, and none of them were ready to start having that argument. Except Erin, apparently.

“Hell, no.” Patty interjected before Holtzmann had a chance to speak, flashing Erin a dirty look. “Thirty minutes ago, she was halfway in the toilet, puking up a grape popsicle. And we still haven’t gotten a new fire extinguisher since the last time she tried to burn the place down.”

“Sorry, Holtzmann.” Erin bit her lip guiltily. “How’s your fever?” Holtzmann shrugged nonchalantly in answer, sulking because Patty had just lab-blocked her. She jumped when Patty poked her hard in the ribs. _Manners,_ Patty’s displeased expression conveyed without words. If Holtzmann had been a child acting out in a grocery store, she would have straightened right up receiving _that_ look. Since she wasn’t, she didn’t say anything, petulantly choosing instead to focus on her empty juice box again.

“It’s still pretty high,” Patty finally answered for her. “We checked it a few minutes ago and it was only down to 102.9.”

“It’s still that high? Maybe Holtz should see—“ For the third time in just a couple of minutes, Patty had to give someone a dirty look. She was sure Erin could not  have forgotten the last time Holtzmann needed to been seen by a doctor. It was only three months ago. Holtzmann had apparently been toying around in her lab, and had managed to burn the inside of her forearm pretty severely. Of course she didn’t say anything about it, and kept on tinkering with whatever all-consuming project she had been working on. Didn’t even clean and bandage it up. It was Abby who noticed the burn several days later (well, they assumed it had been several days. Holtzmann couldn’t give them a clear idea of when it happened, claiming she herself didn’t really remember). She had grabbed Holtzmann’s wrist when the engineer reached across the conference table, and pushed back the sleeve of the crop top, revealing a large lesion that was definitely becoming infected. Holtzmann insisted it was fine, but Abby was having none of it. She bullied Holtzmann into the car, and drove her to the nearest urgent care, where the wound was properly cleaned and dressed, and Holtzmann was sent home with broad spectrum antibiotics, an ointment for burns, and pain medication. As far as Patty knew, she had only taken one dose of the pain medication then. It was the quietest six hours in the firehouse any of them had experienced since moving in with no explosions, yelps, or terrible 80's music coming from the lab. For the next two weeks, Abby went out of her way to make sure Holtzmann finished the course of antibiotics, and applied the cream at regular intervals. After the burn incident, all three women made more of an effort to check on her regularly and pull her away from her work when it was time for a meal or to sleep. It was just safer for everyone involved. As brilliant as Holtzmann was, when she was thoroughly engrossed with a project, she was abysmal at remembering to do the necessary self-care things that a person required. None of them knew for sure why Holtzmann was so averse to doctors. She would delight in causing minor (and sometimes, not-so-minor) explosions in the lab, gleefully handle unstable nuclear devices, and fearlessly take on malevolent specters. But when it came to seeing a doctor, she became downright unhinged, full on fight-or-flight— pupils dilated, heart rate elevated, zoned out and trembling. Abby had discovered this early on, and made it a point to go with Holtzmann on the rare occasion she saw a doctor. For that reason, Patty thought it was wise to not bring it up. Holtzmann was many things, but she wasn’t dumb; she likely already knew she would need to see a doctor if she didn’t start improving pretty quick. It was just easier to get Holtzmann to go along with an idea if it was spontaneous, and she didn’t have time to overthink or fixate on it. She had that in common with Erin.

“I’ve gotta get this reading done. Do you want to watch a movie?” Patty steered the conversation clear of doctors entirely, and Erin slipped away, probably off to her own desk, or to update Abby.  “There’s probably something on TV.”

“I’d rather watch you,” Holtzmann said in her creepiest voice, which did not match the impish grin on her face. All Patty could do was roll her eyes and open her book.

“If you can keep that down,” she said, gesturing to the now-empty juice box,  “you can have another popsicle in a bit.” Patty started in on her reading, ignoring Holtzmann, who quickly grew bored with the staring game and became fidgety. She drummed her fingers lightly against Patty’s leg, swished her feet back and forth, and counted each time she got Patty to look up from her book. It didn’t take long for Patty to realize she would not be getting any reading done today, with Holtzmann draped across her lap. After barely finishing a chapter, she gave up, resigning herself to babysitting. “How about another nap?”

“Can’t sleep,” Holtzmann grumped.

“You ain’t even tried. Close your eyes and be still.” She pulled Holtzmann closer, and wrapped her arms around her. This seemed to settle Holtzmann, who rested her head against Patty’s shoulder and sighed deeply. 

An hour later, and for the second time that day, they were both asleep. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end of this particular story. My ADHD brain is pushing me towards a story about *why* Holtz is so scared of doctors, so that may be coming. Thank you to everyone who has read my first ever attempt at fanfiction. The encouragement has been lovely.

       

When Patty woke up, quickly noting the lack of warmth at her side, Holtzmann was nowhere to be found. She craned her stiff neck around, squinting even in the dim lighting, until she saw the bright light from the refrigerator and a long shadow cast on the ground from the person standing in front of it— Holtzmann. She pushed herself up off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen with a yawn.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing in here?” Holtzmann turned around with a whine, and Patty was able to see the ice cube she held in each hand against her closed eyelids. She had to blink a couple of times before her brain really processed the scene before her. 

“Everything hurts—my eyelids are burning—I couldn’t find the Tylenol—” she stammered out, still holding the ice to her eyes. It was cold in the firehouse— their central heat had never been fully functional— and despite the dropping temperature, Holtzmann had changed out of her flannel pajamas and into a pair of biking shorts and a threadbare tank top. Patty sighed, and retrieved the thermometer from the island counter. She could already tell the reading wasn’t going to be good, given the flush in Holtzmann’s face and the simple fact that the woman was holding _actual ice cubes_ to her eyes.

“Let’s check your temp again.” Holtzmann didn’t move to take her hands away from her eyes; she simply opened her mouth for Patty to stick the thermometer in. Once Holtzmann had closed her lips around the thermometer, Patty pressed the back of her hand against Holtzmann’s forehead, confirming her suspicion. She didn’t need to see the display on the thermometer to know it was way too high. When it finally beeped, she pulled it carefully out of Holtzmann’s mouth. “It’s up to 104. I think we’ve given the Tylenol long enough to work. It’s time to see a doctor.” Patty braced herself for an explosion, and was surprised when Holtzmann didn’t respond at all— not even to argue. She pulled her hands away from her eyes, leaving traces of melted water clinging to her eyelashes and streaming down her cheeks. Patty couldn’t tell if the little trails of water were just from the ice, or if Holtzmann was crying. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. We’ll just get someone to check you out, they’ll figure out why your fever is so high and why you’ve been sick to your stomach, and they’ll help you feel better.” She hadn’t forgotten Abby’s caution about getting Holtzmann to the doctor, but it was so late in the evening now that she didn’t think they had any choice but to go to the emergency room. It might be a little overkill, but it didn’t make sense to let her symptoms get any worse. 

_And anyway,_ Patty reasoned, _if anyone else catches whatever she has, we’ll know what’s wrong._

“It’s freezing outside. I’m going to grab some warmer clothes and a coat for you, then we’ll go.” 

Several moments later, Patty bundled a warmer-clothed (if you could call overalls _warm,_ but they had been the easiest thing to help Holtzmann get on) Holtzmann into the backseat of a cab. She gave the driver their destination, and shrugged when he looked questioningly at her in the rear view mirror. She glanced over at Holtzmann, who was curled up into a ball on her side of the seat, with the hood of her coat pulled down tightly around her face. Patty couldn’t see her eyes at all. Both of them were jerked forward and then back against the seats as the cab lurched forward into traffic.

She considered it pure luck that they made it to the emergency room without Holtzmann throwing up, considering the erratic driving they had just been subjected to. Patty paid the driver before she peeled Holtzmann out of the car and walked her inside. It was a small miracle that the ER was so quiet when they arrived; they barely had to wait at all, once the proper forms were filled out. Patty did a double-take once or twice at the answers Holtzmann provided on her intake paperwork, but dutifully wrote out the responses for her. The triage nurse called her name, and Holtzmann grasped onto Patty’s hand with bruising strength. Patty took that as an invitation to go with her.

Behind the curtain, once Holtzmann was situated on the exam table, the nurse politely began to question why she had come to the ER. With pleading eyes, Holtzmann looked over at Patty, who was happy to chime in.

“She’s here because she’s had a really high temperature for more than twelve hours, despite multiple doses of Tylenol and a cool bath. When we checked right before heading in here, it was 104. And she’s been throwing up all day,” Patty stated, matter-of-factly. The nurse nodded and made some notes on the chart, then readied a thermometer, which she placed under Holtzmann’s tongue. While the thermometer was reading, she grabbed a plastic bin from the cabinet— just in case. Mercifully, she never asked Holtzmann to remove her safety— safety in more ways than one— glasses, nor did she comment on them.

“104 still. You’re right, that’s pretty concerning, especially with your other symptoms. It’s a good thing you came in.”

Patty had been to the doctor enough in her life, she knew the drill, and she helped Holtzmann get her coat off and her sleeve rolled up so the nurse would be able to check her blood pressure. The nurse smiled and wrapped the cuff around Holtzmann’s upper arm and placed the stethoscope below it. She seemed slightly concerned, and repeated the test twice, frowning. “I just want to check your heart rhythm before I alert the doctor,” she said quietly, pulling out a set of sticky EKG leads from a drawer. When she attempted to place the EKG leads under Holtzmann’s shirt, Holtzmann grunted and frantically pushed her hands away. The reaction startled both the nurse and Patty, but Patty quickly jumped in. 

“She’s just trying to do her job. You need to chill and let her,” Patty admonished, unbuckling the snaps on Holtzmann’s overalls to make things easier for the nurse. It was a tone she almost never used with Holtzmann, but it got the message across. The nurse waited a moment before calmly reaching again to apply the EKG leads, and was met with no resistance this time. Once the wires were snapped on, she watched the monitor for a moment, frowning again.

“Dr. Holtzmann, your heart rate and blood pressure are really elevated. It could be from a number of things, but I’m guessing it’s from dehydration and stress. I’m going to let the doctor know right away.” She disappeared behind the curtain with the chart and a print out of the EKG, leaving Patty and Holtzmann alone. Holtzmann looked ready to cry.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. Your numbers are all out of whack because you’re scared. Try and calm down. Deep breaths. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” Patty rubbed Holtzmann’s trembling hand with her thumb, becoming a little more concerned at the blank, glassy-eyed expression now on Holtzmann’s face. She let go of her hand long enough to send a group text to Abby and Erin, since she hadn’t let them know they were leaving.

 

_Patty: Took Holtz to the ER, her temp was 104. In triage now._

 

Her phone chimed just a few second later.

 

_Abby: Yikes! How’s she doing? Keep us updated plz._

 

_Patty: She’s freaked but it will be ok. Think we’re gonna be here for a while._

 

_Abby: <3_

 

With that out of the way, Patty was free to be Holtzmann’s literal lifeline again, but before she had a chance to grab her hand, the curtain was pushed back and an older, slightly disheveled woman in a white coat appeared. Immediately, her eyes locked on the EKG screen.

“Dr. Holtzmann?” She didn’t wait for conformation to continue. “I’m Dr. Pollard. Our triage nurse tells me you’re here for a fever, nausea, and vomiting.” Holtzmann only nodded, shrinking further into herself. “Ok. Well, I’m going to do a physical exam, then set up some tests. But I think with your heart rate and blood pressure so elevated, in addition to your temperature, it would be best if you stayed here for a few hours and got some IV fluids while we wait for results, alright?” When Holtzmann didn’t respond, the doctor looked questioningly at Patty.

“Hi, I’m Patty. I’m here with her because she gets really freaked out about going to the doctor.”

“Ah, ok. Well, let’s start with the physical exam and go from there.” Dr. Pollard was polite and professional; she made sure to say out loud what exactly she was doing as she examined Holtzmann— listening to her heart and lungs, palpating her abdomen, looking at the back of her throat— and she had the wherewithal to speak softly, reassuringly. Holtzmann didn’t resist, she just remained passive and silent, while the monitor continued to beep-beep-beep behind them. “I’m not finding anything overtly abnormal,” the doctor finally concluded. “I believe most of your symptoms are probably from a viral infection like the flu. I am concerned about the elevation in your heart rate and blood pressure, but that is probably secondary to dehydration and some pretty serious anxiety. So my plan is this: we’ll run some blood work, just to be sure. And while we are waiting on those results, I’d like to get some IV fluids into you, along with an anti-emetic, and something for your fever, and something to help you relax, so I can be sure your heart rate returns to normal. Then when everything comes back, I’ll write some prescriptions for you to take home. How does that sound?” Holtzmann made an affirmative sound, though it sounded like more of a whimper to Patty. “Alright. I’m going to write up some orders, and the nurses will be back in to get you set up.” With that, she disappeared.

Thank the lord for small miracles, Patty thought, learning that Holtzmann was at least not afraid of needles when the nurse came back in to draw blood and place an IV catheter. Once the nurse had collected her samples and secured the fluid line to Holtzmann’s hand with medical tape, she pushed the first of three syringes into the port, explaining _this one is for the nausea, this is for the fever, and this last one is to help you relax._ Within two minutes, there was a marked decrease in Holtzmann’s heart rate, though it was still elevated, and Patty could no longer feel any trembling from her hand. She mouthed a silent “thank you” to the nurse, who smiled in return and promised to be back by in a little while to recheck Holtzmann’s vital signs. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” She smoothed a couple of Holtzmann’s wild blonde curls away from her face. Holtzmann blinked up at her sleepily and shrugged, lifting her hand to inspect the IV catheter. Tugging her other hand free of Patty’s, she immediately began scratching at the edge of the tape, lifting it from her skin. “Hey, hey. No. Let’s leave that alone.” Patty shooed her hand away from picking at the IV catheter and went back to holding it. If the anti-anxiety medication did anything, it turned Holtzmann into a docile cat. She would have crawled right into Patty’s lap if the wires from the EKG hadn’t started to tangle. When it was clear that holding her hand wouldn’t be enough, Patty helped her scoot over on the paper-covered exam table and sat down next to her. She wrapped an arm around Holtzmann, who sighed deeply against her side, and absently worked her fingers through Holtzmann’s blonde curls. With her free hand, she texted Abby and Erin again.

 

_Patty: They’re giving her IV fluids while they run bloodwork. Thinking it’s the flu. Also gave her something for the vomiting, the fever, and the anxiety._

 

_Abby: They gave her something for anxiety?_

 

_Patty: Yeah, her heart rate and BP were really high. Like, stroke high. Seems better since they gave it to her._

 

_Abby: Makes sense. Give her a hug for us._

 

_Patty: I would, but she’s already in my lap. Damn if she’s not the clingiest person I know. I’ll let y’all know when we’re headed home._

 

“How about we watch some cat videos on Youtube?” She felt, rather than saw, Holtzmann nod her agreement, so Patty started up the app on her phone, quickly finding a compilation of cats scaring their canine housemates. They both giggled as they worked through the playlist, all the while Patty kept an eye on the EKG monitor. She was no doctor, and despite that fact, she still felt relief when she saw the number indicating Holtzmann’s heart rate drop into the double digits again. Even with the cat videos playing, she still had to discourage Holtzmann from messing with her IV catheter. And the tape. And the roller on the fluid line. And the EKG leads. Finally, out of ideas and patience, she wove her fingers with Holtzmann’s, which was the only way she could think of to keep the engineer’s fingers from causing trouble. The nurse came back in a couple of times, rechecking each of Holtzmann’s vital signs. Though she didn’t say the numbers out loud, Patty could tell by her more casual manner that things had improved. Holtzmann was considerably more cooperative, lazily stretching out her arm for the blood pressure cuff. The only time she whined was when the nurse asked her to sit up so the readings would be consistent. When she was finished, the nurse switched out the IV bag just before she left. 

Patty lost count of how many cat videos they watched before the doctor returned, ruffled papers in hand. She helped Holtzmann, who was a boneless mess by this point, sit up so they could listen to the doctor.

“Things are looking much better, Dr. Holtzmann. Your blood work points to a viral infection, and showed some significant dehydration and electrolyte imbalances, probably from the vomiting. The IV fluids should have corrected that. I think once this liter is finished, you can go home to continue recovering. You should be resting for the next three to five days. I’m sending home some anti-viral medication which will help with the fever, and some Zofran in case you feel nauseated again. But the most important thing is to _rest._ How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” she mumbled, propping her foot up against an empty chair (which Patty promptly swatted off, earning a hurt look from Holtzmann). “Ready to go home.”

“We’ll have you on your way within the hour. Do take care, Dr. Holtzmann.” 

“Thank you, doctor,” Patty called, as Dr. Pollard left their little curtained-off area. Holtzmann giggled and flopped back down against Patty, who was already dreading the ride home. Instead of calling a cab, she decided to text Abby.

 

_Patty: Please come pick us up. Holtzy’s a drugged up mess and I’m too tired to deal with her in a cab._

 

_Abby: Of course. We’re on our way._

 

The discharge process took less time than she expected. Without Holtzmann making their jobs harder this time, the nurses were able to get the EKG leads off and the IV catheter out easily. Still a little giggly from the medication, Holtzmann found the camouflage band-aid over her IV catheter site quite funny. But that still didn’t stop her from picking at it. Patty sighed, signing discharge paperwork and gathering up the prescription bottles. When the nurse returned with a wheelchair, Patty already anticipated the argument. 

“I’m good, I can walk,” Holtzmann asserted, even as the nurse and Patty helped her wobble into the chair. 

“You can barely string together a complete sentence. Just relax. Abby and Erin are on the way to pick us up.”

“Can’t you just carry me?”

“Baby, no. I know you’re tiny and all, but you’re a grown ass woman.” Patty hung the bag of paperwork and medication on the handle of the wheelchair, ignoring the sputtered protesting, and pushed Holtzmann out through the lobby. The Ecto-1 was pulling into the parking lot, but there was a short queue before Abby and Erin could pull up to the emergency room entrance. When Holtzmann spotted their science-mobile, she leapt up from the chair and took a wobbly step forward before Patty grabbed the back of her overalls and plunked her back down in the wheelchair. “No. You wait here until they can pull up,” she said sternly. Again, she ignored Holtzmann’s complaining, and looped a finger in one of the straps on her overalls in case she needed another “handle.” To her relief, Holtzmann didn’t try anything else before Abby and Erin pulled up, and was cooperative getting in the car. She didn’t even complain when, after three tries on her own, Patty buckled her seatbelt for her before shuffling into the seat beside her. Abby was a much more cautious driver than Holtzmann was, but still, safety first.  

Even this late at night, New York City traffic was still awful. Holtzmann fell asleep almost instantly, back in the comfort zone of familiarity and worn out from her ER visit. Patty explained what had happened, and what the doctor found, quietly to Abby and Erin, and shoved the bag of paperwork and medication into Erin’s hands.

“When we get home, it’s one of your turns to babysit. Hopefully she’ll just pass out for a while. Paperwork says the medication they gave her should last six to eight hours.”

“I can stay with her,” Erin whispered, looking over the seat. Patty only nodded in response. Sure, she had gotten to sleep during the day, but damn if babysitting Holtzmann wasn’t _exhausting_. She felt like she had run a marathon. 

With the Ecto-1 parked, the four women shuffled into the firehouse. Erin lit the way with the flashlight on her cell phone, not wanting to turn on the bright overhead lights and wake Holtzmann up all the way. Patty made sure Holtzmann was settled on the couch with a blanket before she headed for her own room, flopping down on the bed gracelessly. In a matter of minutes, she was asleep.

Patty had no idea what time it was when she felt someone literally pulling her eyelids open. She swatted at the hands without really seeing, and sat up, only to find Holtzmann had let herself in. Once Patty’s sleep-fogged brain recognized Holtzmann, she was no longer surprised by the manner in which she had been woken up. Holtzmann frequently ended up in her bed at night.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright?” And more importantly, “Where’s Erin?”

“She’s asleep downstairs,” Holtzmann whispered. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Come on,” Patty groaned, rolling onto her back and lifting the blanket so Holtzmann could get in. She scooted and squirmed until she was pressed right up against Patty’s side, draping her arm across Patty’s torso. Patty tucked the blanket around them both. 

“Love you, Patty.”

“I love you, too, Holtz. Go to sleep.”


End file.
